


The Umbrella

by AvianInk



Series: Brucenat Week '19 [5]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, POV Natasha Romanov, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 07:56:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18846844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvianInk/pseuds/AvianInk
Summary: Natasha returns from a summit with a souvenir for Bruce. (5/7)





	The Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

> In which political badass and subtle dork Natasha Romanoff makes her dork boyfriend do a big science dork.

She found it much like she found this love: on accident. It, however, was on display in a South Korean store and not a corner of Kolkata. Surprises came in all shapes, sizes, and places.

Unsurprisingly, Bruce was asleep by the time she got home. There’d been an admirable attempt to stay up until her arrival—that much was evident in the abandoned Netflix homepage on the TV, the wrinkled dress shirt and slacks—but there he was, knocked out on the sectional. The back of the couch supported his head, which was craned all the way back, but it could do nothing about his mouth, which was wide open.

It wasn’t a disappointment—if anything, it was a relief. Fifteen hours on a plane—one that was delayed twice—would defeat anyone, herself included. There was nothing more appealing than leaving her bag at the door, circumventing another set of stairs, and falling asleep beside him.

So that was exactly what she did. She didn’t change, but she did extract his gift from her luggage and place it on the coffee table before settling down. Bruce stirred when she propped a pillow under his tilted neck. That came with some incomprehensible, fatigued but happy mumbling, and, best of all, the readjusting of his position so both of them were horizontal on the couch with him curved around her. After that, she could rest. Seldom had sleep come so swiftly.

⊗

The nuzzle of a nose and caress of warm breath on the nape of her neck were what she awoke to. The comfort of him against her was more vivid—and welcome—than the fuzzy grain on her unbrushed teeth, the staleness of her clothes, the sliminess of her own tongue. She avoided the taste of the lattermost by sighing through by suppressing a yawn by sighing through her nose.

“Welcome back,” he said to the back of her head.

As she straightened, stretched her spine, and cracked open her eyes to daylight, she hummed her recognition. He unwound his grasp so they could start the process of preparing for the day. They affixed themselves into an upright position, one where he could see the box waiting for his notice.

“What is that?”

“A gift,” she said, scooching to rest against the cushions behind her. That left an open path from him to the black box covered in rainbow splashes and Korean characters.

Something in his back cracked when he leaned to retrieve it. Seeking to spoil the surprise, he asked, “What is it?”

She jabbed his ribs with her foot. “That’s why you open it.”

That elicited a lopsided grin for her cherishing. The smile persisted as he deduced how to open the packaging.

“What—” He brandished the cylindrical apparatus, which a plastic film covered. As he shed that transparent layer, he commented, “It’s…an umbrella?”

“It changes colors.”

“It—” He looked at her as though she’d just told him Tony figured out how to breathe in space. “How?” Before she could hazard a guess, the ribs of the umbrella bloomed, revealing a canopy of limpid droplets in the middle of their living room. He scrutinized the underside, perhaps in search of wires or a source of magic.

She clarified, “It needs to be wet.”

His head snapped toward the nearest window, which displayed a cloudless day. Instead of deflating, he turned his gaze toward their bedroom upstairs. Then he was off, rushing to the stairs and taking them two at a time. Whatever mad science he had in mind, she wanted to witness it. She got up and followed his hurried steps.

She found him and the open umbrella in their shower.

“Bruce—” Confronted with the beautiful absurdity of it—of him fully clothed, barefoot, watching the canopy like it was a fire burning during a storm—she couldn’t help but laugh. The dozens of droplets underwent their transformation from transparency to a spectrum of variegation.

As far as she was concerned, the real miracle was his smile, the beaming expression fueled by the elation he couldn’t contain. “This is amazing!”

She couldn’t resist. Chuckling, she shed her socks and joined him.

He greeted her with a warm, “Thank you.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She pecked his mouth, then reminded him, “And also amazing.”


End file.
